The most remarkable teacher I’ve ever had

Have you ever wondered “what do you want to be?” someone who has been a teacher? The answer is most likely “a teacher again.” No other profession has the satisfaction and dignity of a teacher. I have also been a teacher in the early years of my career. I consider it the most emotionally satisfying job I have ever had. If it weren’t for the financial crisis, I’d be a teacher to this day.

I have put many unforgettable teachers since my student days. This article is about one of those teachers who has left an indelible mark on my mind.

I did my primary education at St. Francis Assisi School in Athani. Athani was, at that time, a suburban area that was slightly larger than a village but smaller than a city. It is located in the Ernakulum district of Kerala. At that time, the school had classes only up to the seventh standard.

The school was unique in that each student had one thing in common. Nobody wanted to reach the seventh standard. The reason was that Sister Beatrice, who was considered by all the students to be the scariest person in the world, taught Hindi at the seventh level.

It turned out that she was also the most loved person in the school. I never understood how a person could become the most feared and loved until the week after Friday when I forgot my umbrella in class. Being the indolent student that I was, I didn’t ask anyone about the umbrella; he was gone anyway, why bother? It was the monsoon season, but he preferred walking in the rain than carrying an umbrella.

Four days go by in the next week with no sign of my umbrella.

Friday arrives and, as usual, Sister Beatrice occupies the last hour. The hour passes without major calamities. We are waiting for the last bell to ring when, out of nowhere, I hear my name being called. How do you feel when thunder hits a classroom? Hearing the name of a student called out by Sister Beatrice is a similar experience. I rewind my brain to two seconds to confirm. Yes, it is actually my name. I get up in my place. I see Sister Beatrice sitting at her table looking at me.

A chill runs through my body. I can’t feel my legs; They are frozen. Sister Beatrice nods her head. I see that the class looks at me with sympathy. His assent is infamous; means “I want you near my table”. An invisible hand must have grabbed me, moved through the air, and landed near the table, since the next moment, I was standing near the table in front of it. She moves her chair back and stands up.

“Did you forget something in class?”

“…”

“You saw?”

“S … and … yes”

“What was that?”

“…”

“What was that?”

“My … my umbrella”

“Did you ask someone about your umbrella?”

“N … n … no”

“Why?”

“…”

“Why?”

“…”

“WHY?”

Teachers (including me) who are behaviors expect a response from a stimulus. When they can’t, they go crazy.

The next thing I feel is a strong hand holding my right hand and turning me around so my back is facing the class. I know what is coming and I close my eyes. The cane makes a stimulating sound as it moves through the air, not so much when it lands on my leg, once, twice, three times.

After 2 minutes of silence, I open my eyes. I see the blazing eyes peering at me from behind the glasses.

She asks me “How can you let go of something so important so easily?” and he hands me the umbrella.

The marks stayed on my legs for two weeks, but his words never disappeared from my ear. They echoed in my ear for a long time. Even now, when I need something and don’t want to ask anyone, I hear the sound of the cane piercing the air followed by his words. They make me talk, don’t keep my voice in my mind.

After I left school, I saw Sister Beatrice only once. It was like two years later. He was in the tenth level and he was one of the best students in the school. I represented my school at the science fair. My old school also participated in the fair. I, along with two of my friends, were walking down the long hall when I saw Sister Beatrice coming towards us. I never imagined that I would be so happy to see her. He spoke to me for a short time and then said, “Bring your friends and help me get some plants out of the garden.” We went to her and dug up all the plants she needed. I offered to take them to their post. She said with a smile “No, Jaimon. It’s okay.” He took those plants with both hands, returned to the long corridor and slowly disappeared from my sight. That was the last I saw of her.